


The Gift - A Valentine's Story In Two Parts

by Rakshi



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-04
Updated: 2011-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-26 21:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rakshi/pseuds/Rakshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean remembers...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Elijah's Gift

I clutch it in my hand, the tiny box that holds my gift. We don't usually give each other gifts. But this. This gift… I have to give him.

I think about the beginnings. New Zealand. Everything just kicking in for us. I knew then that I loved him, but was only dimly aware of how much. Wouldn't have used the words 'in love' to save my soul, but I knew, deep down, that I was already there. Even that early in the game.

We're dressed as Sam and Frodo, walking back from the set. We’d just done the 'This is it' shots. It's a beautiful day. The sun is shining and I'm smiling as we walk, feeling joy that’s bright as the sun because he's beside me. He's whacking me on the butt with his walking stick. Giggling. I ignore it for a minute, wanting to talk… unhappy with the way I’d done the scene.

Remembering…

> "I sounded like a California frat boy," I said, half moaning the words.
> 
> "You did!" he crowed. "Andrew and Roisin were ready to strangle you!" He giggled again and I felt another nudge from the walking stick.
> 
> I’m not one to let an opportunity pass. Even one whose motives make me cringe internally. "That's it!" I growled, throwing my stick to the ground. I wheeled and grabbed him from behind, squeezing him tight, lifting him right off his feet laughing quietly as his giggles spilled and overflowed on top of each other. I could feel his body shaking with them and it filled me with an overwhelming sense of attainment. As though I had fulfilled some long-treasured goal.
> 
> I spun him once, then squeezed him again quickly, hoping he thought he was merely getting the wind squashed out of him in revenge for the pokes. I didn’t want to think about my real motives. Not then. But the feeling of his slender frame pressed against my body... the warmth of his skin that I could feel even through his clothes… I could feel the ache beginning.
> 
> ‘Superheated,’ I thought as I reluctantly dropped him to his feet. ‘His skin is superheated.’ I bent to pick up my walking stick, hoping that our brief tussle adequately explained the flush I felt creeping over my cheeks and brow. He was grinning at me, bouncing, seemingly unaware that he had any affect on me at all.
> 
> Thinking of that early time still makes me wince. God, I felt like a dirty old man. Like someone with an uncontainable and incredibly shameful secret. A secret that was bound to get out sooner or later. I hated myself back then. And I lived in fear.
> 
> “Get in the trailer, Elwood,” I urged, poking him. “Before I put this thing where the sun don’t shine.”
> 
> “Ouch!” Elijah replied, wincing as he trudged, carefully, up the steps to our trailer, worried about tripping over his Hobbit feet. On the top step he stopped and turned to look back me. After a moment I had to duck my head away from the eyes. I could only take so much.
> 
> "You were great in the scene,” he said softly. I felt his hand resting on my Sam-wig, then the sharp rap of his knuckles on my head. “Stop worrying." Then he opened the door and went in.
> 
> While Elijah threw a CD into the player, I collapsed into my makeup chair, almost tripping over Sean Foot who was grinning up at me from his low stool. “Manage not to kill yourself today, big guy?” he enquired.
> 
> Clearly looking for trouble, Sean was. I gave him my best pretend-scowl and growled: “Day ain’t over yet,” then stretched out in my chair, feeling some of the day’s tension ease as he immersed my feet in warm water.
> 
> I could hear Dom, Billy, Elijah, and one of the makeup girls giggling and chattering in the background. Someone nudged my arm and , miraculously, a cup of coffee appeared in front of my face. I grabbed it and sank lower in the chair, sipping happily, nearly drowsing, lulled by the warm liquid in my hand and on my feet. Almost asleep.. almost….
> 
> Elijah’s voice burst into my consciousness, pulling me wide awake. “Fuck me!!” I bolted upright as articles of clothing began flying past my head. I heard things being thrown behind me and instinctively ducked. CD cases were careening off walls with loud cracks. And above it all, the sound of Dom’s laughter and Elijah’s profanity.
> 
> "Fuck me! I'm such a cunt!"
> 
> “Jesus, Elwood! Again?”
> 
> Alarmed, I turned in my chair. “Elijah, what the hell!”
> 
> He was rummaging through his clothes, throwing shirts, CD cases, jeans, and jackets everywhere. “I don’t have my keys!” he moaned. “Fuck! I think I left them in my apartment.” He lifted his head and screamed at the ceiling. “On the cunting bathroom sink.”
> 
> Dom’s doubled over with laughter and Billy giggled. “You twit!” he choked. “How can anyone forget their keys?”
> 
> Elijah sighed and glared at both of them. “OK. OK. I may have to stay with one of you tonight. I’ll try to get the fuckers tomorrow. Damn!”
> 
> A deeply amused Dom shook his head and turned to place his hand on my shoulder. “Come out with us, mate? We’re gonna toss back a few.”
> 
> I looked up at him and smiled, grateful for the invite, but thinking of something other than nightclubs and highballs. “Sorry, Dominus. I’d love to. But… “ I cast a sideways glance at Elijah then shook my head. “… have something I have to do."
> 
> Elijah scrabbled yet again through the pile of clothing he had created on the floor in front of his chair. “Fucking asshole!” he shouted, shaking out a shirt. “God! Someone should shoot me! I’m fucking dangerous!”
> 
> Even though my mind knew he was kidding, it still froze my heart to hear him say such things. “Don’t talk like that!” I barked. “Over a set of keys?”
> 
> He didn’t even hear me. He threw a jacket over his shoulder, narrowly missing a make up girl. “Fuc… oops! Sorry, Jamie,” he said, grinning contritely.
> 
> Dom and I exchanged a glance and a shrug. Clearly it was hopeless. We settled back in our chairs and tried to ignore the raving behind us as the makeup crew erased all traces of Hobbit from our weary bodies.
> 
> The four of us eventually wandered out of the makeup trailer and stood for a moment in the darkening afternoon. Billy made one last appeal to me. “Come with us, Seanie,” he purred.
> 
> I laughed as his accent tickled my ear. “If anyone could get me there, wee Scot, it’d be you. But I have something I must do.” I turned to Elijah. “Have fun. See you tomorrow.”
> 
> Elijah moved forward to hug me. “Wish you’d come along, dude.” His eyes were down as he moved into my embrace, and I couldn’t help but smile at his obviously disappointed.
> 
> I hugged him tight, then turned my head as he moved away, and ‘accidentally’ brushed my lips against his cheek. “Have fun,” I murmured, ruffling his hair. I backed away quickly and waved at the other two Hobbits as I walked to my car. Tempting as it was to be with him. I had other things to do.
> 
> I called the locksmith on my way to Elijah’s apartment, then sat on the stoop for over an hour waiting for him to show up. I was afraid I’d have trouble convincing him to open the door, but thankfully the locksmith knew who I was and knew that Elijah and I were working on Lord of the Rings together.
> 
> The lock was old, and the locksmith worked at it, muttering angrily, for nearly another hour before he got it open. Not even my generous compensation could salve away his annoyance completely. He advised me curtly to have a spare key made, and left.
> 
> I entered Elijah’s apartment and looked around, grinning. “About what I expected,” I muttered. Chaos. Stuff thrown about. Bed not made. Food lying on tables.
> 
> I bent and picked up the shirt Elijah had worn yesterday. For a moment I held it to my face, inhaling deeply. It reeked of cloves and sweat, and just… him. I imagined what it would be like to hold him this close. To bury my nose in his scent. To feel the cloth of this shirt pressed against my face and his arms tight around my neck.
> 
> A small moan escaped my throat and I slowly lowered the shirt, feeling more than a little self conscious about the growing ache in my groin. I dropped the shirt as though it burned my fingers and walked quickly to the bathroom, to recover the keys.
> 
> I broke every New Zealand speed law driving to the nightclub, praying all the way that boredom hadn’t moved them to greener pastures. I felt a rush of relief when I spotted Elijah’s car, and quickly parked mine right beside it.
> 
> I walked through the double doors, stopping just inside. The club was a swirling, flashing mass of bodies and strobe lights. I wondered, briefly how I’d find them in this frenzy, then smiled when I realized that I needn’t have worried. They’d found me.
> 
> “Sean!” Dom’s voice called from somewhere to my left. I turned to see the three Hobbits waving me over from a table on the club’s upper tier. Elijah dashed forward to meet me as I climbed the stairs. “You came!” he hooted happily, wrapping an arm around my neck from the step above me. I grinned up at him and he hugged me tight. “Well, I don’t know if you came,” Elijah laughed into my ear. “But, you’re definitely here!”
> 
> I laughed and reached into my pocket as he backed away a bit. “I’m not staying, Lij. I just came to give you these.” I placed the keys in his hand.
> 
> He looked down at them as though he’d never seen them before. “Are these my keys?” he asked, shaking his head.
> 
> “Yep,” I told him. “Your keys.”
> 
> He was weaving a bit, and I grasped his arm to steady him. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead and under his eyes. “How did you get them?” he asked, lifting his head to gaze at me as the keys disappeared into his pocket.
> 
> I shrugged. “Called a locksmith over to open your door.” Unable to stop myself, I ran my fingertips across his glistening forehead and when he responded with a smile, I leaned toward him and let my thumb briefly caress the soft skin under his eye.
> 
> “He says…” For a panic- stricken moment I totally blanked on what the locksmith had said. I swallowed hard and stared at him, feeling totally insensible... and suddenly remembered. “Oh! He says you should have a spare made. It’s an old lock.”
> 
> “Sean, I can’t believe you went to all this trouble,” Elijah told me softly.
> 
> Dom’s yell caused both of us to jump. “Hey! You two want beers? Come sit down?”
> 
> I shook my head, suddenly frantic to escape. “I’m gonna run, Lij. I just wanted to… you know. To give the keys to you.”
> 
> He lifted his head and our eyes met. “Thanks, Sam,” he whispered.
> 
> I half turned toward the door, feeling the flush on my cheeks. “Enjoy yourself. But you guys be careful driving,” I cautioned.
> 
> I was still staring at me, smiling. “Billy’s not drinking. He’ll drive us all home.”
> 
> “Good! I’m glad to hear it.” I waved at the other two Hobbits, then turned to Elijah. “See ya, buddy.”
> 
> He nodded and ran his hand down the length of my arm, leaning even closer to me. “See ya soon, my Seanwise.”
> 
> The tone of his voice caught my breath and I froze where I stood. I felt sure I was only indulging in wishful thinking. Elijah’s tone couldn’t have been that soft, that inviting, that sensual. Could it? We were staring into each other’s eyes with only inches separating us. The intimacy of the moment was like an opiate. Spellbound, I felt his fingers brush mine. Then panic hit.
> 
> I turned quickly and walked out the door, feeling ridiculously grateful when the cool night air hit my flushed skin. Alone in my car, I gripped the steering wheel with shaking hands and took a deep breath. I looked at my right hand for a long moment, remembering. Elijah’s skin under my fingers had been warm and satin-smooth. The skin under his eyes had felt so very... I groped for a word... vulnerable.
> 
> I hesitated for a moment, embarrassed by my impulse, then gave in and lifted my fingers to my lips and licked them softly. Salt. Elijah’s sweat? My own? A combination?
> 
> I started my car and vanished into the New Zealand night.

He liked it that I’d brought him his keys. That’s when he started calling me ‘my Seanwise’. I probably blushed the first time he did it but it grew on me pretty quickly.

He had a way of saying it that came down hard on the ‘my’ part, and never failed to take my breath away. I started looking for things to do that would make him say it.. Hearing him calling me his ‘Seanwise’ became a prize. A goal. It started out being something I wanted, and quickly became something I wanted a lot.

Remembering…..

> Elijah stared down at his plate without moving a muscle. He stared at it long enough that I finally took notice. “Not eating?” I queried.
> 
> The food was good. Catered and delicious. But repetitive. Same things over and over again.
> 
> “I’m sick of this,” Elijah grumbled, still staring down at his plate. “I mean, Jesus, Sean! It’s good and all. But how many times this month have we had this same meal?” He sighed and shoved the food around a bit with his fork while I watched him anxiously.
> 
> “You have to eat, Elijah,” I said quietly. “With the long hours we put in, you’ve got to get some fuel into you.”
> 
> Elijah shrugged and sat his plate down. “Yeah, well, maybe later.” He stood up and walked away, heading in the general direction of our trailer.
> 
> I stared at his retreating back, then turned to survey his still-full plate with a glowering face. ‘What would Sam do if Frodo acted like this?’ I asked myself. The answer came at once. ‘He’d find something that his master would eat. And he’d find it fast.’
> 
> I got up, leaving my own half-full plate behind me, and walked quickly to our trailer. Entering, I saw Elijah putting a CD into the player and looking fairly grumpy. He managed a smile for me. “Hey! What’s up?”
> 
> “What would you really like to eat?” I asked without preamble. “What would really taste good to you right now?”
> 
> Elijah squinted at me… considering, then shook his head. “God, I don’t know, Sean,” he said shrugging.
> 
> “Well think about it, Elwood,” I cajoled, flopping down in my makeup chair. “It’s important to me.”
> 
> Elijah looked at me and smiled. He moved slowly to the front of my chair and placed both hands on my shoulders. Leaning forward until only inches separated us, he smiled down into my face. “And just why is it important to you, my Seanwise?”
> 
> I lowered my gaze. Elijah’s nearness and intimate gesture had me fighting for composure. I shrugged, knowing I looked like a schoolboy blushing shyly in front of his first crush. “Dunno,” I muttered.
> 
> Elijah stood back up. “Well,” he said nonchalantly. “Let’s see.” He looked up at the ceiling as if pondering. “I have a taste for….. ummmm…….” He turned quickly and bent back over my body. “This!” he said quickly, and kissed my cheek.
> 
> I froze. I was certain that Elijah’s gesture was just that. A gesture. Meaningless. A simple kiss on the cheek that meant nothing. I knew Elijah was looking at me. I had to say something. Do something. Something… normal. Something… calm. Something that helped me disguise my pounding heart and shaking breath. I forced a smile to my face and looked up.
> 
> “Well, thank you for wanting that, but I doubt it would be very filling. What’s your next choice, Mr. Frodo, sir?”
> 
> Elijah laughed and stood back up again. “Well, since you insist. Actually a salad sounds good, Sean. Though I don’t know where you’d get one at this hour.”
> 
> “What kind of dressing?” I queried without missing a beat.
> 
> Elijah grinned. “Uh… Ranch would be fine.”
> 
> I nodded and stood up. I pushed gently past Elijah and walked through the door without looking at him. “Back later.”
> 
> Outside, I wandered aimlessly down the row of trailers and tents wracking my brain… trying to think. The sun was already getting low in the sky. ‘Where in hell will I ever find salad at this time of day?’ I thought sadly. Then my head snapped up. “Orlando! He’s a vegetarian!”
> 
> I sprinted the short distance to Orlando’s trailer and pounded on the door. “Orlando!” I yelled. “Open up! You in there?”
> 
> The door burst open to reveal a half-undressed Orlando Bloom. “My god, hobbit,” Orlando said, smiling. “What the fuck are you yelling about?”
> 
> “I need salad!” I spouted, bounding up the steps into Orlando’s trailer. “And ranch dressing!”
> 
> Orlando looked at me and laughed. He took me by the arm and led me to a couch. “Sit down and tell me what’s going on. You need to catch your breath here.”
> 
> “Elijah won’t eat,” I told him. “He’s got a taste for salad, and I…”
> 
> “And you’re being Samwise Gamgee again,” Orlando interrupted in his low, British voice. “Right?”
> 
> I nodded, hoping I didn’t look too embarrassed. “Well… yeah,” I admitted, shaking my head ruefully and blushing. “I guess it seems sort of silly.”
> 
> “Actually,” Orlando said, patting me on the shoulder. “It seems quite Sam-like. And very sweet.” He stood up and walked toward his refrigerator. “Let’s see what we can fix up for our Ringbearer.”
> 
> Orlando opened the fridge door and began pulling out salad fixings. “Ranch dressing?” he enquired, wrinkling his nose as he looked at me, still perched on the couch.
> 
> “Yes!” I cried, happily. I bounced to my feet and settled on a stool at the counter. Orlando was muttering to himself and piling vegetables up in front of a huge bowl.
> 
> “Alright then,” Orlando said slowly, surveying the pile of greenery before him like a master conductor studying his orchestra. “Let’s fix our boy a salad fit for the King of Gondor.” He rubbed his hands together and began putting vegetables into the bowl, holding each one up for my approval before adding them.
> 
> “Lettuce?”
> 
> “Of course!” I laughed.
> 
> “Tomatoes?” Orlando asked, waving a paring knife in the air.
> 
> “Yes! He loves them.”
> 
> Orlando, swept the small knife around in a playful imitation of the ballet-like movements he’d worked so hard to achieve with his elvish assassin blades. I laughed delightedly as he glared at the offending tomato, brandishing his tiny knife.
> 
> I refused to let this Elf upstage me. “Villainous produce!” I spat. “It must pay for its treachery.”
> 
> “As you wish, my liege,” Orlando responded, carving the tomato into small pieces and dumping them into the bowl.
> 
> We both pondered the salad for a moment.
> 
> “Red onion?” Orlando asked, holding up a baggie filled with chopped onions.
> 
> “Yes!” I replied, grinning. It was happening! Elijah would be stunned by this salad! It really was fit for a king.
> 
> “Baby Carrots?” Orlando smiled, bouncing the bag in his hand!
> 
> “Yes! Lots!” I laughed, grabbing a few for myself and munching contentedly.
> 
> Orlando quickly diced the carrots into the bowl.
> 
> “OK, what else here?” Orlando said, pondering the huge bowl in front of him. “Hmm.. some artichoke hearts.. a couple mushrooms.. a few capers… chives… “ His hands fairly flew as he tossed ingredients into the bowl.
> 
> We peered into the bowl, then looked at each other.
> 
> “Needs color,” Orlando muttered, turning back to the fridge.
> 
> He pulled two more bags from the fridge. And opened them. “A smattering each of red cabbage and radish,” Orlando murmured. Turning, he popped a radish into my mouth. “All organic, of course.”
> 
> I nodded, chewing. “Umm hmmm.”
> 
> He sprinkled in a dash of some sweet smelling herbs, tossed the contents of the bowl lightly with a big fork and spoon, then turned to me triumphantly. "Voila!” He said, sweeping his hand toward the bowl with a flourish. “A gourmet salad if I’ve ever seen one.”
> 
> Awestruck, I peered into the bowl. “You’ll make a hero of me, Orli,” I declared. “But there’s something missing,” After a moment I snapped my fingers and turned to Orlando… remembering. “Ranch dressing?” I asked him hopefully.
> 
> Orlando sighed and turned to the fridge, emerged in moments with a bottle in his hand. “It’s a travesty to put ranch dressing on this masterpiece,” he grumbled. “But… “ He sighed and handed the bottle to me. “There you go, Samwise.”
> 
> I nodded and reached up to hug my tall friend. “Elf-boy, I owe you big-time,” I said softly. I picked the bowl up in my other hand. “This is just beautiful, Orli!”
> 
> Orlando walked to the door with me. “Just don’t let him drown the taste of the veggies with that ranch shit,” he said, grinning.
> 
> I mouthed a kiss at him. “I won’t. Thanks, Orli.”
> 
> I fairly flew back to the trailer, praying that Elijah would still be there, and happily realizing that he was when I heard the music flowing toward me from the trailer’s open window.
> 
> I smiled as I climbed the steps and opened the door slowly, hoping that Elijah wouldn’t hear me.
> 
> Silently as a shadow, I peered into the room. Elijah was in his chair with his back to the door, his feet were propped on the makeup table. The headset covering his ears made him deaf to my entrance, and he was swaying slightly to the beat of the music, too entranced to notice anything.
> 
> I tip-toed to his chair, leaned over his shoulder, and sat the bowl gently in his lap. I could actually feel my insides shaking with excitement as Elijah slowly removed the headset and turned to face me, the bowl in his hands.
> 
> He looked up at me, his mouth open. “My GOD!” he exclaimed. “How the fuck did you do this?” He peered into the bowl and picked off a carrot.
> 
> He looked back up at me, chewing. I held up the bottle of ranch dressing. “I believe it was ranch, Mr. Frodo, sir,” I said, grinning.
> 
> Elijah sat the bowl down and quickly leaped to his feet. In seconds a pair of slender arms were wrapped around my neck, and a soft voice was whispering into my ear. “Ranch it is, my Samwise.”
> 
> Feeling overwhelmed, I put my arms around Elijah’s waist and hugged him tentatively… gently. “Now you sit and eat, Mr. Frodo,” I murmured.
> 
> Elijah turned his head and kissed my cheek. His arms tightened and he buried his face against my shoulder. His breath caught gently in his throat, but he said nothing.
> 
> “Hey,” I half-whispered. “What’s up? You OK?”
> 
> Elijah nodded but said nothing, his face still against my shoulder.
> 
> “Aren’t you hungry anymore?” I asked gently.
> 
> Elijah nodded.
> 
> “You are? Well, come eat then.”
> 
> Elijah drew in a deep breath. He was obviously shaken, and I allowed my hands to slide slowly up and down his back. I tried to ignore the dark urgings that his nearness awakened in my body. ‘Don’t be a jerk!’ I thought angrily. ‘You need to think about him, not yourself!’
> 
> Concerned, I soothed his back again and bent toward him, my lips almost touching his ear. “Doodle?”
> 
> Elijah eased back from our embrace, looking somber but dry-eyed. His head lifted and those incredible eyes, now dark and thoughtful, burned into mine, taking my breath.
> 
> “You’re so good to me,” he said quietly. I started to protest, but he briefly covered my mouth with a quickly raised hand. “No, Sean. You are.”
> 
> I firmly pushed down any desire to protest and simply stood quietly, palms on his arms, waiting.
> 
> His head dropped. “I missed my family terribly when we first got here,” he said, his voice muffled. “Felt so lonely for the kind of…,” he shrugged, struggling for the right word. “Oh, I guess the kind of love and caring you get from family. People who you can count on to be there for you.”
> 
> He raised both palms to my cheeks and cupped my face. “But now I don’t feel that loneliness as much. I don’t miss that love. Because I have it, Sean. You give that love to me. I’ve never had anyone in my life, not even family, who I could count on the way I do you. You’re always there for me. Always. Your love is so… unconditional. Even when I’m being difficult, you never stop caring. It touches me so deeply, Sean. Makes me feel so… cherished. And so… safe.”
> 
> I stared into his eyes and felt a warm, soporific elation seeping through my veins. His words and nearness were a narcotic gliding smoothly straight into my soul. His thumb stroked my cheek, and I felt my entire being sweeten and melt in the aching pleasure of his touch. The thought hit my mind with the impact of a freight train. ‘I’m his. I’m so completely his.’
> 
> For a dreamlike few seconds I let myself be swept away. Then forced myself to gently pull Elijah’s hands away from my face.
> 
> “C’mon, Lij,” I murmured, guiding him back to his chair. “Sit down there now and eat your salad.”
> 
> Elijah looked up at me, his expression puzzled. "Sean?"
> 
> I grabbed a plastic fork from the drawer and turned to Elijah, offering it to him. "Here you go, buddy," I murmured.
> 
> He took the fork without a word, still looking at me quizzically. "Is something wrong, Sean?"
> 
> 'God, you are a jerk!' My mind raged. I yearned to enfold him in my arms, but let my fear win out once again. I bent and brushed my lips against his brow. "Yeah," I said, smiling and handing him the bowl. "I brought you this salad fit for a king, and you're not eating it."
> 
> He smiled happily and turned to the salad. "God, Sean, this is great! It's like the best salad ever." He attacked it eagerly, pausing only long enough to drench it in ranch dressing.
> 
> I winced at the dressing, hoping Orlando wouldn't decide to stop in, and pulled a stool next to Elijah's chair to be near him. Our brief moment of intimacy had left me shaken and filled with longing. I knew that the things I wanted were impossible. Impossible on so many levels that it terrified me to think about them. But knowing it didn't change the way I felt.
> 
> 'God,' I thought, 'I should back away, but I just can't.' I’d never felt this kind of closeness with anyone, not even Chris. A deep sadness welled up within me at the very thought of diminishing the bond I shared with him. It was beyond something I wanted. It was something I needed now. And needed badly.
> 
> 'He fills places inside me that I didn't even know were there,' my mind breathed. 'How long had those places been empty? And me, not even realizing. Just constantly driven. Constantly compelled. Constantly searching. Not even knowing what I was looking for until I found it.''
> 
> ‘We'll work it out,' I thought. 'It's just an extension of our roles. It won't stay this intense.'
> 
> A part of me knew I was rationalizing and that the cost would be high, but at the moment I couldn't care about that. I was too lost in the happiness of watching Elijah eat.
> 
> I reached out absently and stroked his hair, smiling when he tilted his head into my touch. Remembering what Elijah had said, I leaned toward him and drew my hand down to grasp his arm. "Elijah?"
> 
> He looked enquiringly at me, eyebrows raised.
> 
> "You are cherished," I told him quietly. “You are safe.”
> 
> He turned to me and smiled softly. "So are you,"

  
I never minded it. Waiting on him. Doing things for him. And it’s odd. When we were done filming, I felt a kind of fear grip my insides. I was scared that he wouldn’t let me do things for him anymore. I was afraid he’d make me stop. But he knew me well enough by then to know how much it meant to me. He loved me enough by then to indulge my need to be his Sam.

I think, deep down, I wanted to make him dependant on me. So he’d need me and want me around. The old insecurities never really die I guess. Buried too deep. But he did something even better. Even more miraculous. He needed me without becoming dependant on me. I didn’t think that was possible. He taught me that it was.

Even when we were thousands of miles apart, he managed to show me how much I was needed. I remember when he was in Texas visiting a friend and I was in Vancouver shooting Jeremiah. It was 11:30 at night, and my cell phone rang.

Remembering….

> “Hello,” I said, half anxiously, wondering who the hell could be calling at this hour and hoping it wasn’t an emergency.
> 
> “Sean? Hey, buddy. It’s me!”
> 
> “Lijah!” I cried, delighted. “Hi! How the hell are you? And furthermore, WHERE the hell are you?”
> 
> Elijah’s infectious giggle floated into my ear, as welcome as rain to a parched flower. I smiled and leaned back in my chair, allowing the warmth of his presence to infuse my being like a sip of rare brandy.
> 
> “I’m in Texas, you wanker!” Elijah cried. “And I’m in trouble.”
> 
> “Trouble?” I sat up, instantly alert. “What kind of trouble?”
> 
> “I locked my keys in my car,” he said. “And I have no clue how to get them out. It’s dark, Seanie. And it’s cold.”
> 
> I smiled at the obviously faked drama. “Yeah?” I replied.
> 
> “I need my Sam to help me.” This was delivered in a fake whine that pulled a chuckle from my throat.
> 
> “OK. OK,” I said, still laughing. “What you needed to do, duffus, was call a locksmith. They have tools for getting into locked cars.”
> 
> “I have a tool for that too,” Elijah told me, and I frowned, at the shiver in his voice. “It’s called a big fucking rock.”
> 
> I laughed even harder. “No, baby! No. Don’t break the window. Is it a rented car?”
> 
> “Yes,” Elijah replied.
> 
> “Call the rental place! They’ll have a spare set of keys!”
> 
> “Oh my god!” he cried. “I never would have thought of that.”
> 
> “Elijah?” I said, afraid he was going to hang up. “Elijah, don’t go yet.”
> 
> “I’m not going.”
> 
> “Is there someplace warm where you can wait?” I asked, feeling increasingly more worried about how cold he sounded.
> 
> “Yeah,” he said, his voice sounding suddenly distant. “One second, Sean.”
> 
> I heard the phone rub against something, then the sound of muffled conversation. He had to force himself not to yell his name. Who was he talking to? I had no idea where he was, and thoughts of carjackers and molesters suddenly filled my brain.
> 
> “Elijah?” I said, relieved that my voice did not betray my anxiety. “Elijah? You there?”
> 
> “Yeah, right here, Sean. Sorry about that. It was a local cop. He stopped to see if I was in trouble. Says he’s got a tool that might work. He’s gone to get it.”
> 
> “You cold, baby?” I asked. “You sound cold.”
> 
> His laugh shivered into the phone and I felt a stab of pain. “A little, maybe. I’m ok. Here he comes. Hang on.”
> 
> I clutched the phone a little too tight and listened as the muffled conversation returned. I heard Elijah’s voice, though I couldn’t make out what was being said. Evidently he had put the phone in his jacket pocket. I heard both voices suddenly rise excitedly, and then the sound of the phone scraping against cloth.
> 
> “He did it!” Elijah crowed into the receiver. “He got it open!” I heard the car door open, then Elijah’s voice: “Thanks, again, dude! Hope your wife likes the autograph.” And after a moment… “Hi, Sean. I’m back. Let me start this bitch. Fuck! Gets cold here at night!”
> 
> “God, yes!” I implored. “Get some heat going.”
> 
> He heard the car’s engine roar to life, then Elijah came back on the line.
> 
> “Thanks, buddy,” he murmured. “You were a lifesaver as always.”
> 
> “I didn’t do anything,” I protested.
> 
> “Sure you did,” he told me. “You made me feel better. You gave me a solution. Not your fault the cop showed up before I could take your good advise.”
> 
> “My pleasure,” I said softly. “I’m just glad he showed up.”
> 
> “Me too,” Elijah said, laughing. “Whew! Car’s warming up. I better get going, Sean. I’m beat. Wanna head back to the apartment and get some sleep.”
> 
> “You sleep well, Mr. Frodo, sir,” I drawled in Sam’s voice. “I’ll be thinkin’ of you.”
> 
> “Thank you, Sam,” Elijah replied, using Frodo’s cultured accents. “And I’ll be thinking of you too, just as I always do.”
> 
> “Do you, Mr. Frodo, sir?” I asked softly, wondering why my eyes began to smart.
> 
> “I do, my Seanwise. I do think of you.”
> 
> I opened my mouth, but couldn’t speak.
> 
> “Sean?” Elijah asked.
> 
> “Yeah,” I replied softly.
> 
> “Goodnight, Sean.”
> 
> “Night, Lij.”
> 
> “Sean?”
> 
> “Yeah?”
> 
> “I love you.”
> 
> And he hung up.

My life became a blur. A series of hurried dashes to airports between Jeremiah shoots and press junkets for Two Towers. I hardly saw him. I wish I could say that the distance made things easier, but it didn’t. Nothing got easier.

We talked on the phone, but even those moments became rarer as our schedules sent us flying in different directions and onto different continents. And little though I craved the hectic pace of the Two Towers premieres, I began to count the days. At least we’d be together. Finally, I’d get to touch him again. Even if all I did was touch his hand. Anything. Any part of him. No matter how platonic the touch. Just him. Just once.

I tried not to think about how I ached at the very thought of him. It did me no good. Made me cranky with Chris, impatient with everyone else, and handed me a dizzying case of insomnia on a silver platter.

Chris had made her feelings clear after ‘Fellowship’ came out. Her confrontation with me left nothing to the imagination. She shoved a picture into my hands and stared me straight in the eyes. “Sean, if you don’t want half the world to think you’re in love with that ‘boy’, you had better stop looking at him when there are cameras around.”

When she stalked away I glanced down at the image in my hand. Elijah and I, of course. Hell, I didn’t even remember the event. He wasn’t looking at me. He was smiling his geekiest smile, and looking straight ahead. But it was blatantly clear that my eyes were fixed on him and nothing else. My arm was around him, my hand on his neck. Even in the picture I could see that my fingers were white with the pressure of how tightly I was gripping him.

And yeah. I could see what she meant by the look. I was biting the inside of my lower lip and looking at him with undisguised hunger. My eyes glowed with a softness that was markedly absent in the pictures of myself and my wife. She was right. I looked like exactly what I was. A man in love. I sighed and stuffed the picture into my pocket. The next few weeks were going to be murder.

Then came the Two Towers premieres.

Remembering…

> I made sure that Elijah and I were on separate floors in the New York hotel where we stayed for the Two Towers premiere. I don’t have a clue why I thought putting him a 15 second elevator ride away from me would change anything. Maybe I was worrying about appearances. Who the hell knows? It was all academic anyway. We had zero alone time. We barely got to say ‘Hello’. Chris was practically velcroed to my leg from the time we got off the plane. I convinced myself that it was probably for the best and tried to avoid the pain in Elijah’s eyes.
> 
> Eventually, though, she fell asleep. I, on the other hand, hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in months. I paced our suite, caught in the throes of insomnia, until I thought I’d go mad. I told myself a million times that people whose emotions were in shreds didn’t have the kind of judgment that produced rational ideas. That making decisions while I was strung out from no sleep wasn’t a good idea.
> 
> Then, of course, I decided. I had to see him.
> 
> I threw my suit jacket on over my sweats and walked to the elevator in my bare feet. As I punched in the number of the floor above ours, I tried frantically to remember his room number. The elevator began to move and I started to panic. “839 wasn’t it?” I questioned aloud. “No. It was 893! No! You’ve got it backwards! Jesus, Astin, you’re a fool!”
> 
> The doors opened with a ‘whoosh’ and he was standing right in front of me. “Sean!” he cried, and fell into my arms. I’m sure he reeked of booze, but if he did it barely registered. I clutched him tight, and tried to drag both of us out of the way of the closing elevator door. I only half-succeeded. The door whacked me and flew open again while we stumbled to the opposite wall.
> 
> “Whoa!” he giggled, his arms still around my neck. “What’s up, dude? Where you been? I was looking for you!”
> 
> “What a coincidence,” I told him, happily. “I was looking for you too!”
> 
> “Guess what!” he said in a half-whisper.
> 
> “What?” I whispered back.
> 
> His hand caught the lapel of my suit coat and for the first time he noticed how I was dressed. “You’re wearing a suit jacket with your sweats! Sean! How ‘Orlando’ of you!” He giggled loud enough to wake people three floors below us.
> 
> “Shhh! Lijah!” I tried to quiet him. “Let’s go to your room. We can talk there.”
> 
> “That’s just it!” he said, still clutching my lapel. “I can’t get IN my room!” He giggled again and rested his head against my shoulder, snuggling. “Sleep now,” he said.
> 
> I looked up and down the hallway quickly, breathing a sigh of relief when I saw that we were the only ones in it. I could hear a voice inside of me laughing to beat the band: ‘Well… you said wanted to touch him…’
> 
> And I was touching him. He was draped over me like a second skin. I had to get him out of this hallway. “Lij, why can’t you get into your room?”
> 
> “Guess!” More giggles. He released my lapel and wrapped both arms around my neck. Then the giggles stopped. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he slurred.
> 
> “Elijah, please. I don’t want to guess. Is someone in your room?”
> 
> “Nope. Isss’ empty.” His fingers were carding through my hair. “And don’t think I’m so drunk I didn’t notice that you’re avoiding me.”
> 
> “Why can’t you get in your room, Lij?”
> 
> He pressed his lips to my ear. His breath was warm and liquidly and a shiver ran through my whole body. Then he whispered: “’Cause I lost my keys… again.”
> 
> “Oh my god,” I moaned. “Lij, do you know which room is Viggo’s? Dom’s? Anyone’s?”
> 
> “Nope.” He shook his head, then demanded: “Why don’t you want to be with me?”
> 
> Feeling a bit desperate, I looked up and down the hallway again, spotting what I wanted a couple doors away. I tried, unsuccessfully, to untangle myself from his grip on my neck. “Lij, let me go for a minute. I need to make a phone call.”
> 
> “No!” he cried, clutching me tighter. “Not letting you go. You’ll go away… like Frodo.” He seemed to consider this. “Cept.. you’re Sam. You’ll go away and I won’t see you any more.”
> 
> I rolled my eyes and grabbed him around the waist. “OK, then you’ll have to come with me.” l picked him up and half-carried, half-dragged him down the hall to the house phone, and within minutes I had dumped Elijah into a chair and was tipping the bellboy who’d brought a set of keys to his room.
> 
> I closed the door and turned to look at Elijah. He was sprawled in the chair, still in his suit. He was already half asleep and looking so vulnerable with his shorn head and fragile frame that I felt my throat tighten.
> 
> “Come on, Lij,” I muttered, jerking off my suit jacket. “Lets get you to bed.”
> 
> He wasn’t much help, but I managed to get him stripped to his underwear and into bed. I tucked the comforter tight around him, then stretched out beside him and quietly stroked his hair. It felt like velvet. Soft and silky.
> 
> I gave myself permission to have these few minutes without pangs of guilt or shame. I knew there was nothing shameful in the gentle touch of my fingers. I searched my heart with all the inner honesty that I possessed, and I knew that my touch asked nothing more from him than to be here now, touching him this way.
> 
> It wasn’t desire I was feeling. It wasn’t sex I needed at this moment. This warmth that glowed in every fiber of my being wasn’t the heat of passion. Oh, I had those feelings for him. I’d given up trying to deny it. But this… this was different. If desire was all I felt for him, I could have handled it. Turned away from it. Sublimated it into other things, or repressed it altogether.
> 
> The feelings that welled up inside me for this man I loved wouldn’t be sublimated. The love I felt for him was beyond anything I’d ever experienced. The thought of living without him felt like a form of death. And it was. Death of the spirit.
> 
> His eyes opened and he gazed at me in silence for a long moment, his eyes dark in the dim light of the bedroom. “Always my Sam,” he breathed finally, all traces of drunkenness gone from his voice. “Always my Seanwise. Always there for me.”
> 
> I smiled at him. “What IS it with you and keys?”
> 
> He shrugged. “My way of getting you to pay attention to me, I guess.” His voice was soft. His hand came out from under the comforter and stroked my hair just as I was stroking his.
> 
> “Were you really drunk?”
> 
> He smiled and shrugged. “Maybe.” His fingers moved slowly from my hair to my face, caressing my cheek. “Maybe you forget that I’m an actor too, just like you.” Then I felt his thumb brush slowly across my lips.
> 
> “Lij,” I half-choked. Now the desire came. Unexpected and overpowering. A paralyzing ache stabbing my groin with white hot fire. “I… I need to go, Lij,” I stammered, panic stricken that I’d lose control. I scrambled to get off the bed and away from him.
> 
> “Sean, wait… please,” he said, reaching to grab my sleeve. He pulled me off balance and I fell forward almost on top of him. Inches from his face.
> 
> “Please… ,” he stopped, then looked up again, his eyes locking with mine. “Please, Sean. Kiss me goodnight before you go.”
> 
> I leaned toward him and my lips brushed gently against his. He sucked in a shivering inhale and I felt his hand clench on my arm. The touch of his lips on mine was devastating and I jerked away.
> 
> He gave me one, long, agonized look before his eyes fell and his hand left my sleeve. The pain I saw there shattered in my chest, and as he started to turn away I quickly captured his face in my shaking hand and turned him toward me.
> 
> Bending lower I covered his open mouth with mine, fully conscious of what I was doing and the effect it would have on me. I could feel the shape of his lips under mine, and I moaned as I felt every nerve ending in my body scream with longing for him.
> 
> His hand closed over my arm, gripping it with all his strength. I think he tried to say my name, but all I heard were the tiny half-whimpering, half-moaning sounds that poured from the back of his throat. I’d never heard anything convey so much hunger and it threatened to totally undo me.
> 
> For a moment I feared I was totally lost, then I somehow got control of myself. I grabbed both his wrists and slammed them to the bed on either side of his head. Then I leaned over him… my face inches from his. Not letting him move, I lowered my head to kiss him once more. When my lips were a breath away from his… I stopped. The whimpering moan in his throat grew louder. More insistent. Feeling drugged by desire, I captured his mouth again in a long, lingering kiss.
> 
> Then I forced myself to roll off the bed and stood, hunched over it, hands pressed to the mattress, head down, my breath shuddering in my chest. “Jesus, Lij, I love you. Please don’t hate me for this.”
> 
> I looked up fearfully, terrified that I’d bungled this completely. Terrified that I’d lost him. I wasn’t sure how I’d survive that.
> 
> For a moment he looked away from me. Then he turned. The azure eyes met mine, and I saw the love in their depths. The love and the pain. He shook his head.
> 
> “Sean,” he whispered. “I love you too.” He started to reach for me, thinking only to touch my hand, but I lunged backwards, grabbed my jacket, and bolted from the room.

We saw each other fairly often after that at the various premieres and parties. He acted as though that night had never happened, and Chris made sure she was glued to my side. Even with her vigilance, I managed to touch him now and then. Even kissed his cheek once. But it was all a sham. I touched him to prove to myself that I could do it and remain unaffected. Problem was, I wasn’t. Unaffected.

Everything he did affected me. Every look took my breath. Every touch buckled my knees. His smile devastated me. Not with desire. But in a way that was even more compelling. In a way that made my heart melt and my soul yearn. In a way that showed me again and again how deep a love could go. How profoundly it could touch your life. How unshakable it was when it was real.

I was using the words ‘in love’ now. Using them to describe my feelings to myself. Not using them to him of course. The thought of having that kind of conversation with him filled me with terror. Terror and hunger.

Had he really said he loved me? Or had I imagined it.

And those sounds he made! O god. Were they as erotic as I remember them? Could anything be as erotic as my memory of the sounds he made when I kissed him?

Kissed him. I had kissed him. Thinking about it made me dizzy. I’d look at pictures of him and think to myself… ‘My lips were there! Right there. On his lips. Right there.’

I confess, though it shames me, that I’d press those pictures to my lips, longing to feel the shape of his mouth rather than the cold, flat paper. I could still feel them at times. His lips. At night mainly, when the darkness refused to take me no matter how much I longed for the oblivion of sleep. The shape of his lips. Those beautiful lips, open and seeking, under mine. God, it tortured me.

My guilt over these thoughts and images was tremendous. It tormented me day and night. Chris is a good person. A great mother. My friend. I never in my life wanted to hurt her. Any image I’d ever had of my future saw her by my side. I would never have believed that anything like the love I feel for Elijah could so completely change my life.

Wracked with guilt, I’d told her how I felt about him, unable to lie about it any longer. We knew our marriage was in deep trouble, but we both honestly wanted to try. Every couple has their rough times. I had hoped… prayed... that I’d get past my feelings for Elijah. That it was a stage. A phase. A leftover memory from Sam and Frodo. Anything except what it was.

But, for all of the guilt I felt… for all of the pain that my feelings for him gave me, I couldn’t regret them. I couldn’t see my life without him in it. Couldn’t even begin to imagine letting him go. I felt as though my soul would wither and die if it had to face the thought of never touching him again.

I’d look at my wife’s face and know she wouldn’t want to live as Rosie Cotton lived, sharing her life with a man only half-hers, a man who’s soul was captured by another. She’s a woman of tremendous dignity and strength. I had to respect that.

I wouldn’t shame her by continuing to live a lie with her… especially in our bed at night. I’d taken to sleeping in the den half the time, telling her I was afraid my insomnia would keep her awake. But even when I slept beside her, I could seldom bring myself to touch her. And when I did, it felt like cheating.

“Sean, what on earth is wrong with you?” she asked quietly. “You’ve been distracted all evening.”

“I’m sorry,” I responded, feeling the guilt hit me in a rush. “Did I miss something?”

She sighed. “I’ve asked you twice if you’d mind tucking the girls in alone tonight. I have to go out for awhile.”

“Of course I don’t mind, Chris,” I said. “Don’t worry about it. You go.”

She looked at me oddly, then picked up her book and walked out of the living room and up the stairs. For a long moment the meaning of her look confused me, then it hit. Any other time I would have asked where she was going and when she’d be home, expressed some interest. This time… nothing. Not much escaped her notice, and I steeled myself to go talk to her.

I waited a few minutes, then followed her up the stairs and into our room. She was standing in front of the mirror, wearing a black business suit, holding her pearl necklace. She spotted me in the mirror. “Sean, would you fasten these for me, please?”

I walked to her and quickly fastened the clasp of her pearls, carefully moving my fingers to avoid touching her skin. When I looked up and into the mirror her gaze was fixed on me, stony and shrewd.

She turned slowly toward me as I backed away from the dresser. “You look so nice,” I said with a phony brightness that embarrassed me. ‘Jesus, Astin!’ I told myself. ‘You’re a jerk!’

“Thank you,” she replied, still looking at me. “I think we need to talk about things, Sean.”

“Chris, you’re going out for the evening. Maybe tomorrow would be better.”

“Oh?” she responded, still stony. “What you have to say is so earthshaking that it’ll require more time than I have right now to recover? We’ve had this conversation before. I doubt we’ll cover any new ground.”

I looked at her, but said nothing.

“You’re like a visitor in your own home, Sean. Like a distant stranger who’s dropped in for dinner. You’re great with the girls. But you and I …,” she stopped, then seemed to take courage and spoke again. “We tried to make it work, Sean, and I’m still willing to try. But if it goes on like this much longer, we won’t even be able to be friends. We don’t even seem to be in the bedroom at the same time anymore.”

“Chris, it’s not you,” I said, miserably. “It’s nothing to do with you.”

“Oh?” She sighed. “I beg to differ. It has EVERYTHING to do with me!”

“It’s not you!” I protested. “You’re perfect! You’re wonderful! It’s me! It’s inside ME! It’s… ,” I choked on my words, unable to continue. God, I hated myself! I wasn’t being faithful to either of them.

“What were you going to say, Sean?” she asked. “Were you going to say: ‘It’s Elijah.’?”

“I haven’t seen him, Chris.”

“I know you haven’t. And in ways that makes it worse, because not seeing him really hasn’t changed anything has it.”

I dropped my head, unable to meet her eyes. “Chris, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I tried! I tried to put it behind me! I’m still trying!”

She nodded silently. “I’ll play along until the premieres and awards are over. If you want to stay until then, fine. If not, that’s fine too. I have no intention of trying to compete with a 22 year old boy. Frankly, Sean, I wouldn’t have a clue how to begin.”

“Chris, I don’t even know how he feels about me. I just know how I feel.”

“Well, when it comes to our marriage, that IS what matters, isn’t it Sean.”

She turned back to the dresser and began stuffing items into her purse. “I’m going to my meeting,” she said tightly. “In the past few months, I’ve had to learn to have a life beyond you. I’ve had to learn to be my own person.”

She turned back to me. “Decide what you want to do. I’ll not ever keep you from seeing the girls.”

She started to cry and I tried to embrace her, but she shoved me away. “Don’t, Sean! I’ve known this was coming for a long time. I refuse to go on living the way we’ve been living these past few months. It’s worse than you being gone. I deserve better than a shadow of the man I once knew.”

She moved past me, crying softly, and grabbed her keys from the table in the hall. “Be sure Ally brushes her teeth. She tries to duck out of it at times.” Then she was moving down the stairs. I saw her head come up. She stifled her tears with one quick twist of her body, and she was out the door and gone.

I stared after her, feeling like the lowest form of scum who ever lived. At that moment the world seemed populated with people who possessed a dignity and resolve that I couldn’t even begin to master. I felt unworthy to be with either of them. I wanted to find a hole and crawl into it. Let the darkness take me.

But it crossed my mind that he deserved his chance to tell me off too. God knows I had it coming. Besides, I had a gift to give him.

Chris and I would talk again tomorrow, and whatever she wanted, I’d give. But I knew two things irrevocably. I knew it could never again be the same between us. And I knew she’d never accept anything less.

And now, it’s Elijah’s turn. I glance down again at the tiny box in my hand. Time to stop procrastinating. I’ve been sitting in my car in front of his house for hours. The sun is rising off to my left. I’ve done all the intellectualizing that any one man can do. Nothing is going to change. It’s time. I have to face him.

I walk to the house slowly, wondering if he’s even there. ‘Wouldn’t that be just what you deserve, Astin,’ I think to myself. ‘Get yourself all screwed up for the big confession and no one to confess to.’

I ring his doorbell, then think of the hour. ‘God!’ I wonder. ‘Will he even wake up? You know he sleeps like the dead.’ I knock tentatively at the door. I can feel my whole body shaking.

No answer.

I knock again, harder this time. I can’t leave. I can’t go through another night like last night. Rehashing things. Rehearsing speeches. Thinking about it. Wondering. Not knowing. Feeling anguished fear that he won’t want me. I have to know. I’ll sit on his stoop until he shows up if it takes a month. I’m not moving. I can’t! Another day of this will kill me! I’m not leaving… goddamn it! I’m not…

The door opens on a sleepy looking Elijah. He’s in sweats and for a moment only looks puzzled. Then in the next breath… concerned. “Sean?” he says quietly. “What’s up? Is something wrong? Why are you yelling?”

I’m so stunned to see him that I simply stare in silence. It’s him. It’s really him. My stomach hits the concrete stoop under my feet with tremendous force. I open my mouth but no words come out.

Thank god he has more presence of mind than I do. He grabs my arm and drags me into the house. “How long have you been out there?” he asks, pulling me into the living room. “I heard a car earlier, but thought I was imagining things when no one knocked. Was that you?”

I nod, still incapable of speech. I’m scrunching the tiny box in my hand, mangling it without even noticing. He pushes me to the couch and kneels in front of me, putting his hands on my arms. I know he can feel me shaking. How could he not? My teeth are chattering.

I stare into his eyes. They’re fathomless. There are no answers there. Only questions. I try, again, to speak. “I… I… I’m here, Lij,” I choke. My throat is too tight to manage more.

I feel his hands in my hair, holding my head. Then he’s pushing it down. What is he doing? Then I feel it. His kiss on my brow. The same kiss Frodo gave to Sam at the Grey Havens. Is that his message to me? That this is our Grey Havens? I choke on a sob and look up at him.

“Are you saying goodbye?”

“Were they?” he asks me softly.

“No!” I tell him. “No!”

He releases my head and nods toward my hand. “Whatever that is… you’re ruining it.”

I open my hand. My tiny box lies, crumbled in the center of my palm. Mutely I hold it out to him.

He takes it, and lifts his head to stare into my eyes. I realize with a jolt that he’s all grown up. Not the same boy I fell in love with all those years ago. He’s a man now. So much time gone. I won’t say wasted. My years with Chris weren’t wasted. But I won’t go back. No matter what he decides. I know now that I don’t belong there. I just wish I knew where I did belong.

“It’s yours,” I whisper. “For you.”

He nods and opens it slowly. At the bottom of the tiny box lies a small, golden key on a long gold chain. He takes the chain in his fingers and lifts the key from the box, holding it up in front of both our eyes.

“One I won’t lose?” he asks softly.

“One you can’t lose,” I tell him. “It’s the key to my heart… to my love… to my life.”

His eyes widen. “What about…,”

“We talked tonight. I’m not going back,” I tell him, waiting for the shock to hit his face. But he merely he nods as though he knew all along, then looks past me, his mouth twisted oddly. I know that look. I’ve seen it many times. He’s fighting back tears. But… why?

“What?” I ask raggedly. “Tell me!”

He’s still shaking his head. “What can I give you?” he asks me, and for a second I wonder if he’s making fun of me. “What can I give you that could make up for… ,” his eyes slowly fill.

“Oh my god, Elijah,” I breathe quickly. My relief is so blatantly evident that he has to smile. I take his hands in mine. “You give me peace,” I tell him quietly.

I’m so used to letting my mind run amok, letting my intellect complicate everything. Running things through the meat grinder of my mind until I’ve analyzed them into a million unrecognizable pieces. This answer seems too simple. But it’s all I’ve got to give him, so I offer it with all my heart. This simple truth.

I swallow hard, gripping his hands tight, praying he’ll believe me. Praying it’ll be enough. “You give me peace,” I tell him.

I open my mouth to speak again, but he puts his hand over it. “Shh. Don’t, Sean. Don’t explain it.”

He hands me the chain and key, and for a paralyzing moment I think he’s refusing them. Then he dips his head and waits.

I bite my lip, trembling all over, and slip the chain over his neck.

He glances up and I see tears in his eyes too. His arms lift to wrap around my neck and I gather him close. For a long time we stay like this, him on his knees in front of me, held close in my arms. Me with my face pressed to his neck, crying softly, remembering the countless times when I longed for this moment and believed it would never come.

“Lij?” I whisper finally.

“Mmm?” he replies.

“Can I talk now?”

“Only in words of one syllable.”

I kiss the side of his neck. “I love you,” I murmur.

“Now you’re talking.”

I can feel his kisses against my cheeks, kissing my tears away. I look up at him, and he’s licking his lips.

“Salty?”

He shrugs. “A bit. But worth it. Part of you inside me.”

I wonder if I’ll ever stop crying. It’s the oddest crying I’ve ever done because I’m smiling at the same time. My fingers move over his face wonderingly.

Suddenly he leans back, fingering the key. “One I can’t lose.”

Then his hands are on the sides of my head again, and I feel those lips pressing against mine. My arms tighten around his waist, crushing him against me. For a long time there is no sound except the sound I love most in the world. A tiny whimpering moan, coming from the back of his throat.

I struggle to my feet, lifting him up with me, my mouth still pressed hungrily to his. I feel his hands in my hair and the shape of his lips under mine, and almost drop to the couch again as my knees buckle. He feels me sag and breaks our kiss to lean back and look at me.

“Bedroom?” I whisper, and he grins at me.

He jerks his thumb over his shoulder and turns to move in that direction. It takes my numb mind a second, then I realize where he’s headed and stumble after him.

My hand reaches ahead to rest on his shoulder as we walk, and his quickly reaches back to cover it. It occurs to me that we both got a gift today. One that neither of us will lose if we care for it. I don’t mind admitting that I’m scared. I thought Chris and I would last forever. I wonder if I can have that kind of faith again.

I want to always be his Seanwise. I want him always to be mine. I want our hearts and lives to be entwined forever. But there’s no guarantee that’ll happen. All I can guarantee is that I’ll live each day with him as though it were my last. I know what that ‘last day’ feels like now. I’ll never walk away or say goodnight and leave him wondering. He’ll always know how much he’s loved.

That’s more than a guarantee. That’s a promise. From his Seanwise.


	2. Several Months Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It didn't work out as they'd planned... but why?

Elijah spotted it lying at the very bottom of the very bottom drawer in his dresser. For a moment he froze, unable to either reach for it or look away, feeling as though he had just been struck by lightning. ‘Why didn't I throw it away?', he wondered angrily, then answered himself while the sharp tang of shock was still thrumming through his body. 'Because I couldn't have borne it.'

The shock was instantly replaced by the familiar dull ache of loneliness. The void that never quite went away in spite of the months that had passed. No matter how many pep talks he gave himself. No matter how much he drank... talked.... socialized... none of it mattered. The pain was still there. Just as acute as it had been the day he left. The day Elijah's dreams died. The day this little box, filled with all his hopes, had found its way to this bottom drawer hopefully never to be seen again. But not forgotten. Oh no, never that. Never forgotten. Not even when forgetting would be the most blessed thing he could hope for. Not even then could he forget.

He slowly reached for the tiny, slightly crumpled box, then his hand retreated. ‘Why look?’ he asked himself. ‘You know what’s in it.’ A gold chain, delicate but strong, and attached to it, a tiny gold key. ‘The key to his heart,’ Elijah thought sadly. ’That’s what he said.’ That’s what Sean had told him the day he gave him this gift. A key he could never lose Sean said, and he was right. Elijah hadn’t lost the key. He’d lost Sean.

Elijah had feared all along that Sean wouldn’t be able to stay away from his daughters. The ties were too strong. His love for his children was too compelling a force. And when they cried and begged him to stay, not even his love for Elijah could quench the pain and guilt that raged within him.

The man who returned to Elijah from those visits was a shadow of the man who had left, a shell, hollow and empty. Where were the bright hazel eyes that blazed with emerald fire when Elijah entered the room? Where was the Irish grin that lit his face… that lit the room… that lit Elijah’s world? Gone. Just… gone. Now the eyes Elijah loved were sunken and red-rimmed… dark-circled with pain. And the smile that he adored was crushed beneath the weight of Sean’s grief. Even when Elijah touched him and maybe especially then… the guilt and heartache flooded through him until all Sean could do was sob. And all Elijah could do was let him go. Send him away, really. Back to Chris, who accepted him grudgingly, and only on… condition.

Oh yes, there were conditions. Conditions that Sean had to agree to before he was allowed to rejoin his daughters. Elijah had to be banished from his life and heart. No word of him could be uttered. No thought of him was allowed. And if Sean was caught looking out the window, an expression of yearning on his face, there was a quick reminder that he was free to leave. Free to return to his boyfriend if that’s what he really wanted. And Sean would look at his daughters and sigh. “No,” he would say. “That’s not what I really want.”

It was a lie, and Sean knew it was a lie. But he kept faith with the promise he’d made to Chris. Never did Elijah hear one word from him. Never was the silence between them broken by the simple words of longing and love that were the truth of Sean’s heart. He could not bear to see his daughters cry. He could not bear to hear their voices begging him to stay with them. And so he bottled that truth up inside him. And though he ached for Elijah with every atom in his being, he said nothing.

And now Elijah reached again and fingered the small box, caressing it lovingly. “Oh, Seanie,” he said softly. “God, man. I miss you so fucking much.” Then he bowed his head as he knelt before the dresser and tears fell onto the tiny box that held the tiny key.

Friends had told him not to be bitter. ‘Bitter!’ he thought. ‘How in the name of God could I be bitter?’ But those friends hadn’t been here at the end. They hadn’t heard that last conversation. They hadn’t held Sean in their arms as he sobbed on that last dreadful night. The night he left. The night Elijah’s dreams died. They hadn’t been in their bed that night and felt the desperation of their lovemaking. The near-violent desperation with which he and Sean held each other on that last night together and took from each other what only they could ever claim.

Elijah knew that he would never be ‘taken’ like that again. Never. Nor would Sean ever again relinquish control so completely and so totally surrender himself to feeling. But on that night, that last night, they did. They immersed themselves in each other so completely that they both knew they could never really be parted again. And yet this joining, so complete, so utterly irreversible, only served to make the pain of their distance that much more unbearable.

Elijah felt him! Felt him like a second skin or a breath deeply taken. Part of him forever. But for all of that, they could not touch. And this agony which nearly tore his heart out was echoed in the heart of the one to whom he was forever bound. That was their joining now. Their mutual anguish.

‘Bitter!’ Elijah thought, gently fingering the tiny box. ’How could I have bitterness toward the sweetest soul alive?’ Were it not for the sweetness of his spirit Sean might have been able to bear it. To hear his daughters cry and still stay by Elijah’s side. But, no. Not his Sean. Not his beloved.

‘I’ll never feel his arms around me again,’ Elijah thought, overwhelmed by grief. Then, drawing in a shuddering breath, he gently pushed the small box back to the furthermost corner of the bottom drawer and shut the drawer. “I should throw it away,” he muttered as he stood. But his mind instantly discarded this thought. It was his hope now. That little box. That little key. The gift was all he had now. And nothing could make him part with it. Even if he never looked at it again, he knew he’d never let it go.

Elijah stood up and walked slowly downstairs. He sighed and shook himself, trying to elude the dragging weight of his sadness. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and wandered into the living room hoping to numb his mind with television. This was a new era in his life. Never before had he felt as overwhelmingly sad as he did now. Never before had he felt the life go out of him, its spark so completely extinguished that he found the facing of each day to be a deeply daunting task. Everyone said it would get better in time, and Elijah believed them. But when? When would he begin to heal? When would he be able to climb into his own bed without awakening memories of sharing it with Sean… of lying in his arms in complete bliss? When would he be able to see certain coffee mugs without a sharp stab of pain reminding him that it was the one he always used? When would these painful memories begin to fade? When? When would he be able to see lovers walking hand in hand without feeling his own heart clench in anguish… and in envy. When?

 

Across town in Calabasas, Sean sat alone in what he laughingly called his ‘private office’. It was a small room behind the garage where Sean sometimes went to sit alone and think. The room contained a small desk, one very worn easy chair, and a small table upon which sat a boom-box and several CD’s. He could be himself here. He could let himself feel within the confines of this small room without having to worry that other eyes would discern those feelings and be upset by them.

He knew it often showed on his face. When he thought of Elijah the pain and longing were so intense that it couldn’t help but show on his face. And he did think of Elijah. It seemed, at times, that he thought of little else.

Chris was no dummy. She knew him well. And Sean wrestled constantly with his feelings, struggling to control them, to keep them buried beneath a placid expression; hidden from her discerning eyes. The emotional exhaustion of his inner battle constantly threatened to overwhelm him. And so at times he came to this little room. Here he sat alone and gave himself permission to fill his mind with the secret thoughts which lived at the very core of his being.

His family had been told. They knew. This place was ‘off limits’. When Sean was here, they understood that he was not to be interrupted. This was not negotiable. He tried not to stay too long. But there were moments when this solitude was necessary if he was to preserve any semblance of composure. Here, he could listen to the music that brought tears to his eyes without fear of being questioned about why it left him so sad. Here, he could look at the picture of Elijah that he kept hidden in his wallet and remember the joy-filled days he had spent in his arms. Here he could feel the love… and the loss. Only here was he free to be who he truly was, a man wholly in love with Elijah Wood. Wholly and irrevocably in love with Elijah Wood.

Chris didn’t like Sean’s ‘private office’. She was shrewd enough about the man with whom she shared her life to suspect the true purpose of that little room behind the garage. She knew it had something to do with Elijah, and she sighed in resignation every time he disappeared into that tiny space. But about this one thing Sean was adamant. When he was in that room, he was beyond their reach. He had surrendered everything else when he came back to their home. But this one thing he would never surrender.

And now he sat in the old easy chair listening to music from the extended ‘Fellowship’ recordings… remembering. He thought of Elijah. Of their days in New Zealand. Of their time as Sam and Frodo in their own magical Middle-earth. He thought of the love that had spanned all the years since then. The love that never died… never diminished, never faded. He thought of the all-too-brief time they had spent together as lovers. And he thought of their last night together, of the passion and the grief and the vows of enduring love which were the backdrop to their final farewell. He wondered how he would ever manage to live the rest of his life lost as he was in this bleak and lonely despair. And he prayed that Elijah knew how much Sean longed for him. How often his love reached out to Elijah, yearning to share just one moment… one touch… one breath.

And then he turned off the music and rose from the old easy chair. He left the small room, closing the door silently behind him and went back to his family, careful to arrange his face into a calm, smiling mask before he entered the living room where they sat waiting. But behind the docile expression one word burned in his mind, echoing with every beat of his heart. Elijah. Elijah. Elijah.

He fell into his easy chair, trying to smile as his middle daughter approached him.

“Daddy?” she asked.

He lifted his eyebrows in response. “Yes, baby?”

“Did you hurt yourself?” Her small hand rested on his knee, and Sean reached to take it in his.

“Why, no, honey,” he said, puzzled. “I didn’t hurt myself. Why do you ask?”

“Your face is wrinkly here,” she reached to place her small fingers on his forehead.

Chris shot him a look, but Sean ignored her. “I’m fine, honey,” he assured Elizabeth. “I was just thinking about something that worried me a bit, that’s all.”

“Don’t think ‘bout that anymore, daddy,” she advised soberly, squeezing Sean’s hand, and ran to join her sisters.

Sean sighed, wishing with all his heart that it were that easy. That he could just turn his mind off. But his thoughts were not in his control anymore. Indeed, if anything he was their willing prisoner. Willing, because if memories were all he could ever have of Elijah, he would take them, no matter how much pain they brought with them. Better that, than to lose him completely.

“She’s right, you know,” Chris said from behind him.

“About what?”

“That you should stop thinking about it… about him.” Her sigh echoed his, and he turned to look at her.

“Chris…” he began, “… I haven’t…”

“Don’t bother telling me you haven’t seen him or spoken to him,” she said quietly. “I know you haven’t. I also know it doesn’t really matter whether you go to him or not. You don’t have to go to him, Sean. He’s here! He’s here in this room. And he’s sure as hell in that room back there!” She gestured weakly toward the garage. “Do you think I don’t know? Do you think I don’t realize why you go there? Do you think I don’t know who you think of when you bury yourself back there? Do you think I can’t HEAR the ‘Lord of the Rings’ music playing?”

“Chris, what do you want from me?” he asked hoarsely. “I’ve done what you wanted. I’m here. I haven’t spoken a word to Elijah in months. Haven’t seen him. But, Jesus! I DO think about him, yes! I can’t forcibly remove him from my brain!”

“Or from your heart,” she finished softly, moving to take a seat next to him.

Sean said nothing. He turned away and stared across the room where his three daughters knelt together playing.

“And lets get one thing straight,” Chris continued, too quietly for the girls to overhear. “You didn’t do what I wanted.” She nodded toward their children. “You did what they wanted, Sean. I didn’t ask you to come back. You asked to come back. What I said was that you could come back, but that there would be conditions. Conditions you agreed to abide by.”

“And I have,” Sean muttered.

Chris nodded. “Right.” The sarcasm in her voice was impossible to miss.

Sean’s head lifted to meet his wife’s steady gaze. “Chris, I – I” he stammered, dropping his eyes, “I’ll try to do better. I’ll try to…”

“Sean,” she interrupted wearily. “Please stop. I don’t know what you’re going to do, but as for me, I’m tired of the charade. I can’t see how this…. this….” she gestured aimlessly, her hands seeming to encompass their entire life, “… this pretense will help them grow into healthy adults. What good is it to have a father who may live with them, but who never smiles? They deserve better and so do I.” She rose and walked toward her daughters. “Bedtime, girls. Let’s get jammies on.”

He watched her walk away, shepherding their daughters up the stairs, marveling at the extraordinary woman he had married. And though he knew in his deepest heart that he belonged with Elijah, he also knew that he would always love her. He listened to the voices of his wife and daughters as they echoed from above him. “Was I wrong?” he murmured aloud. “Elijah?” he whispered, his voice heavy with longing. “God, baby, was I wrong to have left?”

He wondered now if he hadn’t been so wracked with guilt that he’d made his decision based on what was good for him rather than what was good for his children. Chris had seen what he could not see. That in the long run it was healthier for them to have a happy father who lived across town than a father who lived in the same house with them in silent, empty despair.

He sat in thought for a long time. They’re just children!’ his mind told him. ’They’re not wise enough to make this kind of decision. I can’t lay this on them.’

When he heard the girls trouping down the stairs to tell him goodnight a wave of sadness washed over him. ’God, I’ll miss this,’ he thought with weary grief as the girls ran toward him. But not as much as I’ve missed him.

He gathered his daughters into his arms and as he held them he looked up into their mother’s eyes. “After they’re down, could we have a chat?”

She nodded silently.

Sean’s hand trembled as he inserted the key. He was fearful that Elijah had changed the locks, but the key turned and the door slowly opened. Sean hesitated in the doorway, listening. But he heard no sounds from within. The house was silent.

Sean entered quietly, leaving his suitcase in the foyer. ’I might not be staying,’ he thought. He was horribly unsure about the kind of welcome he’d receive. ’I wouldn’t blame him if he tossed me right back out the door.’

Sean hadn’t phoned Elijah before coming over, and he hoped that this hadn’t been a huge mistake. But after his talk with Chris, and their subsequent conversation with the girls, he had simply been too emotionally exhausted to be sure how he’d react if Elijah refused to see him. In person, he felt, he’d be better able to gauge Elijah’s mood and perhaps, if he was lucky… talk his way back into Elijah’s heart.

“Lij?” he half-whispered, walking softly toward the living room. “Elijah?”

The living room was empty. Sean looked about, feeling disoriented even though the setting was achingly familiar. Not much had changed. A rumpled blanket and pillow were on the couch, seeming to suggest that Elijah had slept there recently. His red tennis shoes were under the coffee table, which was strewn with empty Heineken bottles and several half-empty bags of chips. Sean swallowed hard. ’Where IS he?’ he wondered, feeling his anxiety escalate into full-blown fear. He had no idea what he’d do if Elijah rejected him, but he felt sure his response would be neither calm nor reasoned.

A noise from the kitchen startled him and he spun in that direction just in time to see Elijah enter the room, a fresh bottle of beer in his hands. For a long moment they stared at each other in silence, then Sean moved, quickly, toward him. “Lij, wait. Don’t say anything. Let me talk first.”

Elijah’s free hand groped toward the couch and fell solidly onto its curved back. He was still staring, silently, at Sean. His eyes were huge in the dim room, but Sean could read no message there other than shock at his presence.

“I’m sorry to surprise you this way,” Sean began. “I know I should have called. But I was – I mean, I thought – I…” he stopped and took a deep tremulous breath. “Jesus, Lij,” he whispered. Elijah’s eyes seemed to burn into him, cobalt-blue flame that seared his soul.

“Elijah, please…” Sean begged, though he didn’t know what he begged for, except perhaps that the eyes would soften and look on him more kindly.

“Why are you here? What do you want?” Elijah rasped out finally. “God damn it, Sean! The last thing I need is to have to go through another fucking goodbye scene!” He took a stumbling half-step toward Sean, and his fingers clenched in the blanket that lay draped over the back of the couch.

“No!” Sean exploded. “God, no. That’s not – that’s not…,” He looked around wildly, thinking to point to his suitcase, and then remembered that he’d left in the foyer. He pointed toward the entranceway. “My suitcase,” he stammered. “It’s there.” He ran to the foyer to fetch it and re-entered the living room, showing it to Elijah as though it somehow proved his intentions.

“An overnight bag,” Elijah said, his tone quietly mocking. “Great.”

Sean sat the suitcase down, painfully aware of how badly he was handling this. “Jesus, Christ,” he moaned. “This is the most important conversation I’ve ever had in my life, and I’m totally blowing it.”

Elijah shrugged and moved to sit on the couch. “Why are you here, Sean?” he asked again.

“To show you this,” Sean said. He reached into his pocket and offered Elijah a sheaf of legal-looking papers. Elijah took them and slowly unfolded them, then glanced up at Sean in disbelief.

“Sean, what is this?” he asked.

“Just what it looks like,” Sean replied. “My copy of the papers Chris and I signed today, filing for divorce.”

The papers trembled in Elijah’s hands. But he composed himself quickly and handed them back to Sean. “That’s what you did today. But it still doesn’t answer my question.”

Sean threw the papers to the table and knelt in front of Elijah. “I’m here,” he whispered, his hands fisted on Elijah’s knees, “for one reason only… to beg you to forgive me and take me back.”

“But – but Sean,” he stammered, “the girls...”

“The girls will be fine… in time,” Sean interrupted. “I’m not going to get a pain-free exit no matter how much I might want one. But in time, they’ll get over it. If I still want to be a good father, I can be. That part is up to me. But the way we were living wasn’t healthy for any of us.”

Elijah’s fingers traced slowly through Sean’s curls. “Beg me?” he teased softly, his face softening into a slight smile.

“If I have to, yes, I’ll beg,” Sean said firmly. “God, Elijah. I’ve never been more unhappy, more lonely.” His voice grew thick as he spoke, and his eyes were bright with tears. “Leaving you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life. I need you. Please let me come home.”

With a sharp inhale, Elijah slid forward into his arms and for a long moment they didn’t speak, merely held each other close. They drank in each other’s nearness, drugged by the familiar feeling of each other’s bodies. Sean’s hands moved slowly over Elijah’s back and his face pressed hard against the graceful slope of his throat. “Oh my god,” Sean moaned against his skin. “Oh my god. I’ll never let you go again. I’ve never felt such pain, Elijah. It was like my heart had been ripped out of me.”

Elijah nodded. “I know,” he murmured. “Oh god, Sean…. I know.”

Later Sean awoke to find he was alone. He sat up abruptly, eyes searching the room. “Elijah?” he called. “Lij? Where…”

“I’m here, Sean.” He walked to the bed and sat down. “I’ve got something for you.”

Sean smiled and reached to caress his cheek, marveling at the face whose astounding beauty still took his breath. “My god, there’s nothing on Earth I want that I don’t have right here… right now.”

Elijah pressed the slightly crumpled box into his hand. “I want to return this gift to you,” he whispered.

Sean’s eyes filled with tears as he looked down at the box. He’d thought about this gift many times and felt sure that Elijah had thrown it away. “You kept it,” he choked. “You kept it.”

Elijah nodded. “I kept it,” he said in a low voice. “It was all I had. I remembered what you said when you gave it to me. That it was the key to your heart. A key I couldn’t lose. Somehow… knowing this gift was waiting there in that drawer, meant that there was still hope. That your heart was still mine. That we still had a chance.”

Sean drew out the key on its gold chain, and settled it around Elijah’s neck. “Yours,” he said, then cupped Elijah’s face in his two hands and kissed him tenderly. “Yours for as long as I live. I love you, Elijah. And I know you love me. That’s the real gift, isn’t it. The gift that neither of us can lose. The love we feel for each other.”

The key was pressed against their chests as they held each other close, thrumming with the harmony of two hearts beating as one.


End file.
